


In Regards to Love

by EasyNitesAngel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Relationships, Character Development, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, episode 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9138382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyNitesAngel/pseuds/EasyNitesAngel
Summary: A bit of insight revealing Viktor's thoughts on his relationship with Yuuri while staying in Barcelona's resort.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, before anything: my writing's, like rly rusty atm and I'm super sorry about that!! Don't abandon your passions and dreams, kiddies! ( ；´Д｀)

_**"When I get away from skating, two ‘L words’ come to mind: life and love.”** _

Eight months had passed since Viktor Nikiforov had taken up the job to be Katsuki Yuuri’s coach for figure skating in the Grand Prix Final. Eight months since he had met someone whom had touched him in such a way that it brought out emotions foreign to him. Yuuri Katsuki. It must have been at least twenty years since he had last allowed the beauty of life to flow through his veins and instill a wondrous sense of happiness into him. Who would have known that ice skating, of all things, could swallow someone up and lead them into the inexhaustible depths of passion itself? Time had truly escaped Viktor. He was twenty-seven years old, still an iconic athlete, perhaps retired if he so desired. He was sixteen when he became a world-renown icon in figure skating: that was eleven years ago. Before then, he had been training recklessly for his own future, practicing endlessly, performing flawlessly for the sake of his country’s desire for insatiable artistic perfection. 

He wasn’t exhausted from ice skating; he never lost his passion for it. There was something mysteriously whimsical about it which he could never get enough of—the feeling of floating, moving without the mind controlling any nerve whatsoever of its limbs, and getting lost in the entrancing enthrall of music. It was a journey to conjure a new surprise every year for the rest of the world to marvel. This time, he had chosen the ambiguous decision of becoming a coach for none other than a fan with a lost cause. What about his own future? Would he ever go back to skating competitively again?

Viktor wasn’t quite so sure about the question himself. Maybe he won’t go back to what he was before. Maybe he’ll once again return to the ecstasy of that addictive adrenaline; the bubbling potion of anxiety and excitement he’d always felt before a performance. 

However, he rather liked the new quiet that ensued after abandoning his competitive career. It gave him time to look at where he had gone all these years, really look into other people and himself. 

He had forgotten what those “L words” meant. Life and love. Surely, he lived a satisfying life of skating. He undoubtedly loved it. Yet, now that he was able to focus on so much more besides ice skating and captivating the people to keep history alive, he could clearly see what the means of living were. He hadn’t allowed much love to come to him before. There wasn’t much time for anything, he discovered. 

Yuuri helped him realize that. Yuuri might have needed Viktor’s aid and skill in revealing his veritable potential, something beyond the ordinary of which would satisfy his student—but soon Viktor had come to learn how much he needed Yuuri. Yuuri gave him emotions of humility, generosity, compassion: something the greedy rush of any competition would never seek. The limelight was zealously exhilarating, but Viktor didn’t believe it could ever amount to this tranquility he had unknowingly sought for his entire life.

But, most of all, Yuuri gave him company. It wasn't easy to maintain close friendships or relationships as a dedicated athlete—and a symbol for a nation, for that matter. Love had seemed so impossibly distant before then, almost a mirage in one's own fantastical imagination. He had once thought for a moment it was unreal: something people would falsely name selfishness for the sake of trying not to be selfish. Yet, there was so much more to it, this sustainable love, this being without substance that somehow existed despite everything in the world's attempt to diminish it. Love was a gentle, glowing flash of light in a dark void, a clear tunnel in the midst of chaos. It was something impossible. Perhaps a miracle, especially in his own life.

It was just as enlivening to watch what he had given and taught Yuuri unfurl into a masterpiece to touch the hearts of others, pull at the fragments of their memories. But, Yuuri’s ice skating was about Yuuri, not about Viktor. He, of course, knew that; he wanted the unfathomable to blossom from Yuuri. He surpassed the means of ordinary talent. There was an inexplicable fire of potential in him waiting to spark into a flame of legacy. Viktor, more than anything in the world, wanted to ignite it. Another side of Yuuri was beginning to grow through the fibers of his being, which had been sitting at the ends of the roots of his capability for so long.

To think, despite how far they had come, Viktor felt as though this was only the beginning. The beginning of a fresh start for him and Yuuri. He knew Yuuri saw it, too.

He dipped his head back into the gelid water of the hotel’s pool. Barcelona was a nice place to relax and think, he admitted. A vacation was what he had always needed. It was very cold in the winter, however, which was astonishing to him considering he had lived and trained in St. Petersburg for so long.

Well, this wasn’t quite a vacation, but he’d decided to call it as such since he had no worries of practicing for any competition and was able to take in the wonders of Spain this time.

As he resurfaced, the tip of his nose had been frost-bitten as he sneezed from the wintry cold. Before the quiet pattering of slippers on the ground reached his ears, he heard a familiar voice call out, “I figured that the Russian vould be the only one, besides me, stupid enough to get into the pool this time of year,” as he recognized the smooth, silvery voice of Christophe, the striking sculpture of an athlete stepped before him. “I guess I vas right.”

“Chris!” his features immediately brightened upon seeing his friend, a charismatic smile greeting the Swiss man.

“Hi! How’s Coach Viktor? Here, I vas hoping I vould get to go skinny dipping,” Christophe jokingly frowned as he moved closer to the edge of the pool, removing his bathrobe and slippers and tossing them to a nearby lounge chair before dipping a foot in the water.

Viktor shrugged as if he didn’t mind his intentions. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll even take pictures, if you want.”

“Awh, vhy thank you! It’s not everyday I’m asked to do a photoshoot, especially by none other than someone like you,” he said, nimbly hopping into the pool to join Viktor. Right as the lower half of his torso had been submerged into the icy water, he quickly gathered his arms together to hug himself in a vain attempt to keep warm. “Ooh, it’s so cold. But, it’s… kind of relaxing, vouldn’t you say?”

“I think so, too. I’m not sure what it is, but Barcelona is a nice place to wind down for a bit.”

Chris chuckled at his statement. “Only a coach vould get to say that at a time like this, Viktor,” shaking his head and flashing a pearly grin, he muttered again, “Only a coach.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right about that. Relaxing is a nice thing to do,” he added, staring pensively elsewhere. “But being a coach is almost no different from being an athlete.”

Christophe floated over to the pool’s edge again to set his sunglasses on the ground. “You make it sound like you’re going to do competitive skating all over again,” he turned over his shoulder to give him a coquettish smirk. “Miss it already?”

“Hmm,” giving a slight pause to trail off his mumbling, he answered, “In some ways, yes.”

Raising a brow, Christophe knew there was more on his mind. The peaceful silence wasn’t something Viktor always carried with him. “…Oh, really now?”

Viktor felt his cheeks lightly flush upon the thought of Yuuri. “Coaching’s given me a lot of opportunities, though. You’re not really allowed to think alone much when competition’s the only thing on your mind.”

“Hm, you’re definitely right about that. In that case, vhat has been on your mind? Hah, I can’t imagine vhat kind of… _new_ things you’ve finally had the chance to think about.” 

Viktor could feel the suggestive tone beneath that question. It was, of course, no secret that something conspired between his relationship with Yuuri. “I guess you could say a feeling of freedom. I’ve never really had the chance to have someone so close to me.”

Christophe felt a bit strange seeing Viktor so calm. He was always busy trying to maintain his trademark façade that it sometimes seemed as though he was attempting to feign happiness, perhaps for the sake of ultimately himself. _You may have changed Yuuri a lot this season, Viktor, but I think Yuuri has done the same to you,_ he thought, a nearly inconspicuous twinkle set on his features. Allowing the comfortable quiet of the night to seep in, he took the chance to immerse his head into the water. After coming back up and fixing his hair, he asked, “Speaking of, vhere is Yuuri? Afraid of the cold much?”

“Oh, Sleeping Beauty’s resting up in our room. He’s not one for jet-lag,” Viktor absently answered. 

_For someone so peaceful, he sure is welcoming a lot of thoughts into that head of his, isn’t he?_ Perhaps a better word to describe this new Viktor was liberation. Tranquility in its genuine state would be waiting to embrace him.

Christophe decided to leave Viktor to his own thoughts. He, too, needed the silence, time to unwind. 

The water wasn’t so cold now that he’d gotten used to it. It was unusual for Barcelona to be freezing at this time of night, but Switzerland was undoubtedly less forgiving during the winter. Perhaps the thought of his home helped him relax.

It must have a long while until Viktor finally spoke to shatter the quiet. “Are you still up for photos?”

“Of course,” he grinned. For a moment, he thought he heard a bit of that old Viktor creep up in that offer’s tone.

Viktor had gotten out of the pool to grab his cellphone once he had dried off. His body was shivering all the while, his joints a bit stiff from the biting breeze that swept by. “I’m warning you, getting out of the water is much worse than getting in if it’s winter.”

“I hope people think goosebumps are sexy, then.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have no problem looking sexy, Chris,” he commented. As soon as he wrapped a towel around himself and tucked securely under his arms, he grabbed his phone to signal Christophe to get ready.

 _Christophe Giacometti,_ Viktor mentally spelled out. They went quite a bit back, as far as their pasts were concerned. He remembered when he was a young teenager, he greatly admired the Russian figure skater. It wasn’t long after when he joined him on the podium in the European and World Championships, then the Grand Prix Final. It was intriguing to watch him grow over the years and how he never failed to meet him each year with a high score, but they never really kept a much closer bond beyond acquaintances. Christophe was a sort of friend to him, if anything. Yet, he knew little of what it was like to have one: Yuuri was perhaps the first person in a long while whom had made him such an unbreakable connection with. Together, they formed such an intricate intertwining of a close friendship in a short period of time. And, now, the relationship was cultivating into something more between them. Viktor was unfamiliar to such a feeling—love.

After several photos, Christophe had long gotten out of the pool and settled on along chair adjacent to Viktor, sipping another glass of the whiskey sour he brought. Then, he chose to stop the photo-taking since Viktor’s unusual self was becoming more of a concern to him. “Is something bothering you, Viktor? You’re never this quiet, you know.”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” he said, setting his cellphone down beside his hip. “But, thanks for asking.”

Shrugging at the answer, he thought it best to change the subject. “I’m one of the oldest skaters left now that you’re gone,” he gulped the last of his drink, continuing, “Even though I’m only twenty-five.”

“It must be lonely without me by your side, hm?”

“Oh, you can’t even imagine. Although…” he paused for a moment, as if to add effect as he knew Viktor was figuring out where he was getting at. “That Yuuri is very interesting. He’s suddenly become a lot more like you, of course, this year.”

Viktor shook off the thought of Yuuri becoming more like him—Yuuri was something more than him and his ice skating. Yuuri had grown into something of his own: surely he had changed, thanks to Viktor’s help, but he could have shied away from competing entirely, which might have been as easy as a decision of continuing for the sake of a famous figure skating idol. Perhaps the sudden improvement sparked the last remains of Christophe’s competitive spirit since he had retired for the season, just a fateful reminder. How else would he have gotten into the Grand Prix Final? “Hm, I wouldn’t exactly say he’s become like me… I’d say, if anything like me, he’s uncovering his potential.”

With that, Christophe smirked at his answer. “You know, you may be new at this, but you’re not at all a bad coach. Pride’s a good thing to feel towards your own students,” stopping his words, thought of a good answer implying his intended message. “Maybe even a bit of… _admiration_ , vouldn’t you say?”

He laughed upon seeing a more conspicuous blush form onto Viktor’s cheeks again, although Viktor didn’t seem to mind the teasing and shyly chortled along with him. “Oh, stop, you’re making it sound like a love story, now.”

“Honestly, though, there’s absolutely no denial between any of us. You, Yuuri, me, the skaters in the Grand Prix Final, the rest of the world…” sighing, he hesitated, yet dared to press on, “but, you’ve never really seemed to have allowed yourself to have friends before. And, believe me, you’d vant Yuuri to be your friend before anything else.”

He noticed Viktor remaining silent, but clung to every word he said as though every syllable was an utterly captivating discovery. 

“Talk to each other. Take it slow. You don’t vant to get caught up in the spirit of the competition again—you know it takes avay a lot.”

Viktor’s gaze fell to the ground in front of himself, drinking up each word. Christophe was right. He’d never felt a true admiration like he had for Yuuri before; love was almost foreign to him. He could only hope nothing would tear their connection apart. He needed Yuuri: Yuuri needed him. It was beyond ice skating—Viktor had sought for the sweet light of peace Yuuri brought; Yuuri searched hopelessly for confidence which Viktor could reveal in him. However, it was easy to get tangled up in the ravenous greed of competition. Miscommunication could be imminent. They needed more time to each other, besides worrying about figure skating. 

“Let’s go inside, hm? It’s getting a bit too cold for my liking,” Christophe finally stated, standing up and taking the half-full bottle and flute glass in one hand after putting back on his bathrobe and bedroom slippers. As he turned around, he saw Viktor staying put, still as a statue deep in thought. “Staying then, I suppose? I guess Siberia’s put enough damage on you, in that case.”

“Hm? Oh!” Viktor jolted at his voice. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. You’re wanting to go inside?”

Nodding in response, the Swiss athlete waited for Viktor to gather up his things and they headed to his hotel room. The walk back felt peculiarly long to Viktor, quite possibly because he was growing more impatient to escape the freezing imprint of winter numbing his entire body. As they kept a lively banter with Christophe maintaining a humorous atmosphere between them, they didn’t mind how loud they were when they approached Viktor’s and Yuuri’s room—who had just woken up and barely had time to register their monumental entrance. For a moment, Viktor could have sworn Yuuri had been crying just before he barged in.

*** * ***

It was around midnight when Viktor thought it was time to peel away from the comforting heat in the bathtub. He couldn’t help falling into a sleepy spell in the hot water as it thawed away the freezing numbness instilled in his body. As he drowsily dragged himself out of the tub and dressed in his sleepwear, he saw that Yuuri went back to dozing off peacefully. A humored smirk crept its way onto Viktor’s lips when he could barely hear Yuri’s soft snoring.

“Silly Yuuri, you didn’t let me say goodnight,” his voice at a low whisper, he climbed into the bed and slid underneath the covers. It was clear that he had intended to stay awake for longer, but succumbed to the lulling spell of his fatigue. “And your glasses are still on,” after gently pulling them off, he reached over Yuuri to set the pair of spectacles on the adjacent nightstand, finding his cellphone was tucked beneath his hand. He turned to his proper table to switch the charging cord from his own phone, mindful of the battery. At last, he flipped on his side to face Yuuri again and placed chaste kiss on his forehead, fingers lingering and lightly brushing through his dark hair. 

Love was a crackling kindle, he thought. It was ignited with admiration and a sweet infatuation between two who were genuinely meant for each other. It was warm, unfaltering in its commitment. It was a sparkling flame in emotion and passion, fickle in this sort of nature. He was new to love, but he welcomed the fulfilling sensation of living again. Living beyond figure skating, competitions, fame. He was just now beginning to learn that, after twenty years of forgetting about what he really searched for. Yuuri had begun to explore the means of his potential and believing in himself. There was no need to shy away and underestimate one’s own abilities and strength: it was just an challenge obstructing the path life could offer. Limelight and diffidence. It created a delicate balance between the two of them.

It was a fresh start for him and Yuuri: the beginning of a new life they both had awaited tirelessly.

...Yet, were they ready for such a change?

**Author's Note:**

> Waouh. Never done romance before.  
> You know what this show needs? One-on-one character time. MAN, that is my kink right there.  
> Uh, sorry about that really bad interpretation on good ol' Chrissy, guys... It's hard to get to know the guy, you know? He doesn't really seem like the whiskey sour type, either... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyhow, I needed someone who hypothetically has some kind of romantic experience, and _knowing_ him (I guess??)...  
>  Seriously, though, these two nerds _need_ to communicate to each other, amirite? Miscommunication is not a good thing in any relationship, and it's literally happening all over the place in theirs. *sigh* Oh well, I hope the next season will make up for it. They really need to talk about some uncalled-for decisions they're making on the fly, you know? Of course they mean well, but they just really, really, _really_ need to sort out the pacing of their relationship here, ya get me? Oh, well...


End file.
